


Ill Begotten

by reflorated



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Coping, Damaged Draco, Damaged Hermione, Dark Percy Weasley, Drama & Romance, Hate to Love, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Powerful Hermione Granger, Powerful Ron Weasley, Recovery, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reflorated/pseuds/reflorated
Summary: For a moment, the only sound that can be heard is harsh breathing. Then she draws out her wand. He can’t stop her, nor would he. He had lost too much to give up his pride now. He stays mute as she tears his sleeve open to reveal skin where the the dark mark had been when the Dark Lord lived. With slow, deliberate flicks, a word appears over the newly healed skin.Coward, it says. Red and angry against his alabaster skin.“Look at it” she says viciously. “Look at it, and remember how you couldn’t save your father. He died, just like your mother will. You burn everything you touch, Malfoy. You’re incapable of creating any other outcome. You’re weak and cowardly and worthless and small. Where’s your precious pureblood ideals now? They’re dead. I fought for the right to be here, while you were hiding behind your daddy’s skirts.Fuckyou, Malfoy. To think I felt guilty for refusing to help you”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Harry, I don't think the war is over

After the war ended, it seemed natural that Harry, Hermione and Ron would live together at Godric’s Hollow. Try as she could, she couldn’t separate herself from Harry and Ron anymore. They were extensions of her now. They had done too much, been through too much for it to be any different. 

It didn’t make Harry Potter hogging the bathroom any more acceptable, though. After shouting and wheedling for nearly ten minutes, she simply lost patience and vanished the door with a flick of her hand. 

“Hermione! I need some privacy!” Harry shrieked, as she casually slips out of her underwear and sits down on the toilet. 

Two years on the run made it almost impossible to be shy around nudity. When the war ended, Kingsley and Percy Weasley led the charge around rebuilding. The trio were asked to pose for photos, give interviews to the daily prophet… create an image of trust and complicity. Hermione had regarded the politician with disgust, but it was nothing compared to how Ron had almost crackled with rage when Percy came to them. But he stayed silent. The pre-war Ron would have probably cursed the new minister with an impressive litany of swears. The post war Ron is silent, preferring to watch. It unnerves the people who thought they knew him. Not Harry or Hermione though. They knew. 

Harry politely refused to do so and the three of them secluded themselves. They rebuilt Godric’s Hollow. They cast the Fidilius Charm again {and obliviated their secret keeper - it was a tricky bit of magic but nothing Hermione couldn’t do}. They grew things in the garden and learnt how to cook, learnt how to cast new spells, learnt wizarding chess. Harry, who had the most experience out of the three when it came to the press, believed it would blow over shortly. But it didn’t. The more they kept quiet, the more the wizarding world wanted them. They wanted the three… their gods, their heroes to take the stage and let themselves be edified. Every time she went to Diagon Alley, there would be a full page coverage about her, what she was doing, and what she had done. It unnerved Hermione.  The new world order was too strange, too bright, too much… almost implicitly, without talking, they reverted to how they were in the tent. Harry supposes it’s a bit unhealthy, but doesn’t do anything to actually change it. The tent was familiar. Why change what is't broken?

In that context, Harry was only whinging for the principle of it. She ignores him and he sighs irritably. With a wave of his hand, he silences the sound of her piss trickling into the toilet. 

Ron appears at the bathroom door, his hair sticking up in a manner that could be described as cute. It always amazes Hermione how Ron could like such a child when he woke up. Like there hadn’t been a war. Like they were eleven on a Christmas morning. Only after he ate and showered did he look like a man who had been through war. 

Hermione stands up and pulls her pants up as Ron blinks owlishly at the place were the door was supposed to be. Then he looks at Hermione and with a lazy flick of his wand, brings the door back. She smiles sheepishly, and pads out to the kitchen.  Though Ron was equally adept at wandless magic, he preferred to use a wand. Something about how he felt naked without one. It was just as well. She knew he felt their second year more keenly than he let on. 

Harry and Hermione though, used wandless magic as freely as they used their wands. When the war had stopped but the nightmares hadn’t, she’d fantasised about what she could have done to Bellatrix if she could have done wandless magic. Six months after the war, the fantasies of ‘what-if’ left her, but she never stopped working on wandless magic. 

The only time the three of them had stepped out of Godric’s Hollow was to give testimony during the trials. The trials were well publicised. With almost obscene relish, Percy had told them how this would give the new government a veneer of respectability. ‘Even our enemies we treat fairly’ he crowed. But, the three of them had seen the murderous gleam in his eyes and had politely looked away. 

‘He was always a medieval bastard’ Ron would say later. ‘Of course he wants to hang their bodies in the town square’. 

The testimonies had been easy enough. No one challenged their version of the events, not that they would lie. They kept their accounts factual, brief and unemotional. After they spoke, sentencing was almost immediate. Lucius Malfoy, the first death eater to be given a trial had been sentenced to death. He’d been given aconite fluid to burn his organs away in the courtroom, his death made a public spectacle. He was to be given the kiss too… but in typical Malfoy fashion, he had tried to bribe his way out of trouble. When that hadn’t worked, he claimed imperious. When that claim had been debunked, he tried begging. Incensed, the court had ordered his death by poison. For weeks, the papers relished in showcasing pictures of Lucius Malfoy writhing on the floor as his wife and child watched in frozen horror. 

The rest of the death eaters were given the kiss. Their properties were seized and immediately sold. The only exception had been the books at Malfoy Manor and Nott Manor, which Hermione had wanted. To their credit, after Ron and Harry made fun of her swottiness, they helped her create a library. Overnight, they added another room to the cottage, charming it to keep growing as needed. She often liked retreating there before bed, steadily making her way through his collection. Even Ron and Harry had taken to reading, using the books and its spells to practice and grow. 

The rest of it was sold, the gold directed by the ministry to better uses like rebuilding, reparations, creating social security nets. The wives and children of Death Eaters were given ministry issue flats [as they were homeless and penniless] and their wands had been snapped. 

Presently, Ron and Harry join her in the kitchen. With a sway of her hands, the coffee mugs float into their hands. They’re talking about something softly but she doesn’t pay attention.  The leaves were starting to turn. Hermione contemplates how much things changed when one wanted them to stay the same. Idly, her mind wonders what kind of spell would it require to create endless fall. Well, not fall, but that time between summer and fall when the leaves were just starting to turn. 

Ron breaks her thought by casting a warming charm on her cup. She looks up, distracted, to see him stowing his wand away. Ron smiles at her. “Why are you letting your coffee get cold?” 

“I was thinking” she begins slowly, “if there was a spell to create endless fall. I like this weather”

“Probably could be done, but would require blood magic” Ron says. Harry looks up from his mug scornfully. “Or a weather charm”

“You’d need to keep casting it though”

“Not if you let the magic seep into the ground around it” 

“Yeah, but that would require a potion… which would need blood” 

“yeah but blood by nature doesn’t affect air that strongly.” 

“Ok, but…”

Hermione looks between the bickering boys with quiet affection. After Ron had moved into Godric’s Hollow, his magical capabilities had increased vastly. Herself from a relatively upper class background, she had been unaware of how much poverty and insecurity could affect one’s intellectual capabilities. Away from Hogwart’s rigid teaching methodology and Molly Weasley, he had flourished. Ron’s abilities had always been intuitive and the same applied to his understanding of magic. In a way, she was almost jealous of Ron. He never needed to memorise spells. He simply willed things to be. His magic moved intuitively within him. 

Harry was a different case. It seemed that the horcrux had been holding him back… like a seal on his magic. Lily Evans had been a powerful witch and James Potter came from a long line purebloods. Powerful magic was his birthright and after the Horcrux was gone, there had been a while when his magic was simply too torrential and powerful to control. He had to use the elder wand for no other wand could channel his magic. But in time, he understood his magic. When Harry cast spells, the magic poured out of him like a tidal wave. It was beautiful to watch. 

Presently, her boys demand her attention again. 

“Have you decided what you want to do about Hogwarts?” 

She looks into the eyes of The Boy Who Lived and shrugs. Two weeks ago, Minerva McGonagall had sent them letters asking if they wanted to return to Hogwarts for their eighth year. Ron had decided he would go, but Harry and Hermione had been on the fence. On one hand, both of them couldn’t bear to separate from Ron just yet. On the other hand, they didn’t know if they could go back to Hogwarts at all. Ron had understood and told them if they decided not to go, he would floo back home every night after classes were done for the day. 

“How about you both try it?” Ron suggests. “Just go, see if it fits you for a month or two. If it doesn’t work, just withdraw. You’re both of age, and can do that you know”

Hermione had thought about it in depth. On surface, it seemed like a good solution. But… what if she couldn’t come back? She sucks in a breath through her teeth. 

“We have to give an answer by tonight” Harry reminds her. She deliberately stretches on her chair. Unfortunate side effect of the cruciatus was that her joints would get stiff if she sat in one place for too long. “Let’s go” she says finally. “Let’s just go. We can’t avoid it forever” 

“Too true” Harry says stoutly, walking out of the kitchen into the living room. It was almost time for his date with Ginny. Ron shoots her a grateful smile and summons some parchment and quill to write their reply. 

“Tell them none of that house shite” Harry yells from the living room. “I refuse to sleep without you two!” The roar of the floo punctuates the end of that sentence. 

___________

Draco Malfoy alights from the train. Behind him trail Pansy, Theo and Blaise. Whispers and jeers start almost immediately but the four of them keep their head high as they make their way to the carriages, where they were to wait for a ministry appointed representative to drop them off at the school.  The anti-magic bracelet feels heavy against his wrist but it had been a small price to pay for being alive. The terms of his sentence had been clear. He was to finish Hogwarts and then be exiled to the muggle world. His mother was to live without magic in the ministry flats until he completed Hogwarts, and then both of them were to be exiled to the muggle world permanently. 

But at least, he was alive. 

Their representative is not there yet. No doubt it was deliberate. As the catcalls and the jeers increase, Pansy’s eyes start glistening. The trials and the subsequent coverage had been hard on her. She had been the one who wanted to give Harry Potter up. She was the one who sold out, the first one. The traitor. The death eater’s whore. 

Hagrid is there, but he does nothing to stop them. _Why bother about prejudice when doesn’t affect you?_ Draco inwardly sneers as he musters up his frostiest, most hostile expression. 

A sudden hush descends on the platform. The four of them turn around and watch as Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley alight from the train. Beside him, Theo sucks in a breath. Draco is too well bred to react so audibly, but he understands it. 

Though the three are wearing regulation school robes, power emanates from them in waves. Pure, untainted and powerful magic practically rolls off them and Draco has to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from walking towards them. Theo, Blaise and Pansy were similarly stiff and he knew they were thinking what he was. The four of them, children of the sacred 28, had seen and used magic since they were born. When the ministry snapped their wands, it had felt like a limb was being cut. When they couldn’t use magic, they felt the loss so keenly that it had felt like they were dying. Feeling their magical energy felt like how an addict in recovery must feel around alcohol. He thought going to the ministry was torture… but this was… 

He would have preferred the cruciatus. 

The platform is still, its inhabitants unsure what to do as their gods were dealing with their trunks while talking amongst themselves, seemingly unaware of their surroundings. Even the professors are silent. 

There’s a sudden flash of red light. Draco turns around a second too late to see Astoria Greengrass whip out a wand and fire a spell at the three of them. It looks like a bloodletting hex - a more tame version of the _sectumsempra_. Daphne, her sister, had somehow been more bloodthirsty than Bellatrix Lestrange. She had been given the kiss and the public had actually celebrated it. Astoria’s wand had been snapped, but she hadn’t been given an anti magic bracelet. Where did she even get a wand? Their sale was controlled by the ministry now, lest the wandless try to buy wands again. 

Without skipping a beat, Ron Weasley waves his wand and the spell freezes midway. A glass ball forms around the spell and floats into the Weasley’s hand. Granger (the war cured him of most of his prejudice. He couldn’t call her a _mudblood_ anymore) looks at the ball with the spell swirling inside it with mild interest before waving her hand in Astoria’s direction, who simply vanishes from the platform without so much as a pop. 

Insurmountably, the platform is more silent than before. The Boy Who Wouldn’t Die pushes his glasses up his nose with a mild frown. “Don’t worry about her” he tells the crowd. “She’s simply been banished to the headmistress’s office where she will await her punishment”

Draco raises an eyebrow. Weasley’s spell was magic he had never seen before, but to be able to manipulate the wards of a place as heavily guarded and ancient as Hogwarts was nigh impossible. It simply couldn’t be done. That too, _wandlessly_. He wants to laugh, but tamps down the urge. His magic flutters inside him. 

The three of them walked towards the carriages, once again wrapped up in each other. When their carriage takes off, whispers immediately swell as Hagrid half heartedly ushers the first years into the boats. 

“At least they aren’t focused on us anymore” Blaise breathes out as an auror finally deigns to appear at the platform and without a word, leads them into the castle.


	2. I can't just seduce the weasel

Draco’s magic surged inside him, hammering against his ribs. Draco, Theo and Blaise had separately been assaulted at least ten times in the last month alone. Pansy had taken to sneaking into the library to sleep - the other girls in her dormitory had nearly killed her last week. 

The magic swirls and unfurls inside his blood, now giving him a bad migraine. His magic could sense the magical energy of the castle and was desperate to be let out as well. He bites his lip and absently nibbles toast, trying to mentally reason with his magic. The anti magic bracelet somehow, feels heavier against his wrist.  Magic wasn’t supposed to be locked away. It was a primordial energy inside the body, to flow free and unencumbered. It was the reason why accidental bursts of magic happened in children, and why they were forgiven. It was why most magical schools would start training students as young as 11. Schools were designed not to help you ‘control’ magic, but to simply channel it. You don’t control magic. You work _with_ it. 

To lock magic inside the body, and to send the said body into a building bursting with magical energy was beyond cruelty. It sort of went into the straight up evil territory. 

“Draco, stop _staring_ at them” Pansy hisses. 

With a start, he realised he indeed had been staring at _them_ again, and looks down to his plate of toast. He couldn’t help it. Their power was as potent as the first day and his magic was drawn to theirs as a fly is to honey.

“You know I can’t help it” he breathes back quietly. Though Blaise and Theo were their friends too, Pansy and Draco shared a different equation altogether. She was his sister, his partner through fire and sulphur. It was in her lap he had cried after his father had been murdered in the courthouse. It was her that knew his deepest and darkest secrets, his shame and his guilt. He never said it, but he knew he didn’t need to. He would lay his life down for Pansy. 

She absently strokes his clenched fists with her dainty fingers. “I know the appeal is… hypnotic” she murmurs. “But you have to stop. It won’t do well to be seen staring at them so openly. People will get ideas. We cannot afford to lose more” 

She is right, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Petulantly, he snatches his hands back from her. She raises a delicate eyebrow but otherwise, refuses to engage with his tantrum. He stares down at his plate. “Sorry” 

She sniffs. “It’s quite alright” 

They eat breakfast in companionable silence. With the magic in their bodies as erratic as it was, they really couldn’t manage anything but toast. But, the ritual was important. So they nibbled at toast and sipped their waters and spoke of inconsequential things like the weather, or homework.

Theo slides next to Draco, and whispers urgently, “I have a plan”. Both of them don’t look up from their plates, but Theo knows he has their attention. 

“Pansy, you need to seduce Ron Weasley”

“What?” Draco’s voice is sharp. Crabbe and Goyle would have taken the hint but Theo is as obnoxious as he is ill bred and keeps going. 

“I know it sounds crazy, but it will work. Pansy needs to seduce the weasel - it’ll be easy enough, look at the ginger bastard. Once we have an in with them, we can convince them to help us appeal to the ministry. The mudblood will be the first to agree. Once she agrees, Potty will follow. They saved the goddamn world, the courts will listen to them. We’ll be free! We’ll be free. We’ll be free. We’ll leave the country. We won’t come back. In time, we’ll get our revenge. We’ll murder the bastards, paint the walls with their blood. We’ll get what’s ours. We will. We will. We will.”

Theo continues ranting about mudbloods, murdering Percy Weasley, leaving the country. Pansy looks up from her plate, and observes Theo. His low, lazy drawl has a frantic edge to it. His hair sticks up from the back of his head. His eyes are bloodshot but bright, with purple shadows beneath them. The normally put together boy looks thin, thinner than he has ever been. His clothes are rumpled. His hands tremble. 

_Madness_ , she realises. She looks at Draco, and knows she has come to the same conclusion. They had suspected this would happen. Locking magic away had never been done before. It was uncharted territories, with somewhat unforeseen consequences. 

“Theo, why don’t you have something to eat and I promise you I’ll think about it?” She says in what she hopes is a soothing voice for she really isn’t that sort of girl, despite her mother’s best efforts. 

“No” he says loudly, lunging forward and gripping her hand in a way that would most certainly bruise. “Tell me you’ll do it. You’re our only hope. We can be free” 

Draco sees her wince. “Let go of her” He says sharply, tugging Theo’s hand away. Theo’s grip is tightens around her wrist. He starts twisting her hand. 

“I’ll break your hand off” Theo snarls. “Tell me you’ll do it”

Pansy’s eyes start watering as she tries to pull her hand away. Draco lunges for Theo’s throat. 

“Let her go” he snarls. His magic is roaring inside his ears and he can feel blood rushing to his head. Theo obstinately clings to Pansy’s hand. 

“Draco, Draco, you’re hurting him” she whispers sharply. The Great Hall has started to take notice of their little altercation and Pansy’s cheeks burn in anger and shame. Draco pays no mind to her or his audience, too intent on getting Theo away from Pansy who was clinging to her hand desperately. The teachers are watching them but make no movement. 

Suddenly, they’re separated. Pansy’s hand is free and she almost sobs with relief. Theo is crumpled on the floor, clearly stunned. Draco looks around wildly.  Harry Potter is standing behind them, with his wand out. _Of course_ , Draco sneers internally, but the saviour has no interest in Draco. He turns to Pansy. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asks. Pansy is frozen in her seat, but gingerly extends her wrist. It is a bright shade of red, and swelling ferociously. 

“Right” he frowns. “Hermione is usually the one who does the healing spells but I think I can fix this”

He presses his wand into her wrist. Instantly, a cool sensation envelopes her wrist. The swelling starts going down. She looks up at him gratefully. Behind her, Draco audibly scoffs but both of them ignore him. 

“Please don’t… please don’t tell anyone” she stutters out, gesturing towards Theo. “He isn’t… these bracelets… magic isn’t supposed to be locked away you know?” 

Harry frowns, but nods. “If the wrist acts up, go to Madam Pomfrey”

She nods jerkily. “Thank you” 

He doesn’t smile, but his eyes warm up a touch. Pansy smiles what she hopes is a soft smile.

Harry turns to walk away, but she stills him with a hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry”

She feels Draco stiffen behind her, but doesn’t dare to look at him. Her eyes are fixed on a spot at Harry’s chest, not daring to look into his eyes either. 

“… for everything” 

“I forgive you” Harry says easily, after a beat. “We were children. Still are, kind of.”

Pansy’s eyes water, but she blinks furiously. The Saviour of the Wizarding World regards her with curious eyes, before turning around and walking away.

_____________

The Astoria incident had been the start. Rumours plagued her ever since she came into the castle. First, that she murdered Astoria (the girl was still around, just with an anti magic bracelet around her wrist). Then, about her unusual sleeping arrangements (Minerva hadn’t been happy but had finally granted their request to be in the same living quarters). Worst of all, it was the stares and the whispers and the wide berth the rest of the students gave her. They were scared of her, Hermione had realised in the first week itself. The thought pained her. She never wanted that kind of notoriety. 

Flitwick is talking about healing charms. The subject matter is actually quite interesting, but for once, Hermione really can’t pay attention to her classes. Beside her, Ron is fast asleep. _Typical,_ she regards with a weary shake of her head. But in a strange way, this vision is so familiar that it’s easy for her to forget that the war ever happened. So she lets him sleep. For the sake of nostalgia. 

Hogwarts was… not fine. She hadn’t expected it to be, but perhaps, had hoped. If nothing, time should have made things easier. But it didn’t. Though the castle had been rebuilt, her memories of the war were practically branded into her brain. Near the hospital wing, she had nearly died. Near the grand staircase, Harry had bid her goodbye. Near the black lake, she had killed for the first time. _It was too much._ Resentment rises in her - this was just one more thing the war had stolen from her. 

But she couldn’t leave. It was important to Ron. He was determined to go through the motions of normalcy in a way she simply wasn’t brave enough to. But she loved her boy. So she stayed. 

Harry slides into the seat next to her. She frowns in disapproval as Harry cancels the notice-me-not charm around himself. “Harry-” she begins but he cuts her off. 

“Wake him up” 

There is something in his tone that makes her immediately comply. Harry casts a muffliato around them while Ron looks up blearily. 

“I think those anti-magic bracelets that Percy put on the Slytherins are doing something to them”

At this, Ron sits up straighter and Hermione stiffens. Harry explains what happened in the morning briefly. The altercation, what Pansy said and how weak the three of them looked. Both of them are silent, absorbing what he tells them. Distantly, she notices Draco and Pansy enter the classroom, and losing 20 points from Slytherin for being late. 

“I can talk to Percy” Ron offers after a while. “I’m sure there’s something we can do for him in exchange for the bracelets to go”

Before she can stop herself, “no” leaves her mouth. 

Harry turns to her. “What?”

“No” She says. Her hands are clammy and she knows it’s wrong to say so but she’d decided long ago she would do what was right for her. She’d given up too much and she deserved to be selfish. 

“You and Ron can do what you want”, she says. Her lips are dry and she licks them. “But leave me out of this. I won’t be involved” 

“Hermione, they’re dying” Harry says flatly. Ron is silent. 

“I was dying” she says sharply. Harry falls silent. “In Malfoy Manor, I was dying and Draco Malfoy was there. He was there and he saw me at my lowest, my most broken and he stood there.” Tears blur her vision as she rolls up her sleeves violently. It’s been a year but the word, _mudblood,_ is still raw and blistering against her skin. 

“You were fulfilling your destiny, Harry, but I was fighting for my right to exist. I _won’t_ …”

Her voice breaks. Ron puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. Harry’s eyes are warm, wet, and without judgement. She takes a moment to collect herself. 

“It’s wrong, what’s happening to them. They were children, just like we were. But I’m done fighting. Please do not involve me” 

Harry is silent, and Ron’s hand never leaves hers. She shrugs his hand off. The lesson isn’t over, but she stands up to leave. 

“Are you alright, Ms. Granger?” Flitwick asks. 

“No professor” she says politely. “I think I need to go to the hospital wing - please excuse me”

Without waiting for his reply, she turns around to leave. She’s aware that Draco Malfoy’s eyes are on her as she leaves, but she ignores him (and her guilt) and walks out of the classroom. 

**Author's Note:**

> My big complaint with post war fics is that they rarely delve into Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson or any of the side characters who have such rich potential. I want to try and do justice to these characters. Also, magic as an energy interests me and I can't imagine something so potent being locked away inside the body without repurcussions. I hope you enjoy the chapter. I will be updating twice every week, and have written 20 chapters so far. 
> 
> Please leave comments. I will try my best to respond. 
> 
> You can follow me on instagram @reflorated but i don't post much dramione content there, so. 
> 
> Love and safety,   
> R


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